Arctic Mirage
by sphinx01
Summary: Four oneshots about the wintery adventures of a noble spy, in response to the December TF Flash Challenge on Ao3
1. First Snow

_Prompt:_ First Snow  
 _Word count:_ 497

* * *

 **First Snow**

 **xxx**

"As usual," Mirage growled, "I fail to see the appeal of this excursion."

 _'And as usual'_ , Hound commed back cheerfully, _'you're still here just to make me happy.'_

In lieu of an answer, Mirage concentrated on dragging his wheels forward through the white, cold and wet substance that blanketed every available surface and clung uncomfortably to his undercarriage. Curse this organic planet with its seasons and freak weather! And curse his own weakness that wouldn't let him insist on proper conduct whenever his lover was so obviously stoked about something.

The only positive thing so far turned out to be the relatively short time it took them to reach Hound's desired destination, a forest of fir trees lying cradled between the slopes of a small valley. It was very silent here, the thick snow mantle swallowing almost every sound, and myriads of icicles hanging in the trees glittered in the shine of their headlights.

It paled in comparison to Helix Gardens, of course, but still Mirage felt somewhat mollified at the sight.

"It's beautiful, don't you think?" Hound said, sounding dreamy. Mirage smiled despite himself as he transformed.

"Quite lovely," he agreed. And it was true: Covered in white as it was, the organic landscape looked almost… graceful.

Hound stepped up behind him and interlaced their fingers. "I thought we might treasure the memory one day," he said. "Who knows if we'll still be here for the next winter."

"We will be, with my luck," Mirage huffed. But he squeezed his lover's hand affectionately, and Hound's field felt warm and loving as it snuggled up against his.

xxx

Earth's seasons were short, thank Primus, so this winter nonsense came to a pleasantly quick ending. Even so, Mirage waited patiently until the last snow had melted before he made his move.

"I have a gift for you," he announced on a late spring evening, producing a tiny, flat metal box from his subspace.

Hound, stretched out on his berth, looked up from his data pad in surprise, but following Mirage's encouraging smile he sat up, took the proffered item and triggered the locking mechanism. A miniature containment field sprang up, and inside it glittered something tiny and white.

Hound looked at his lover, a puzzled little smile on his faceplates. "A snowflake?"

"A snowflake from our first Terran winter together, to be precise," Mirage corrected. "I thought about what you said back then, and you were right: It seems to me that the occasion is worthy of a little keepsake."

For a split astrosecond, Hound's optics dimmed as he searched his data banks for the corresponding memory file. Then his field lit up in an almost tangible glow, projecting _touched/grateful_ in heavy waves. "Wow," he said, voice laced with static. "Thank you. That's… that's great."

"I know," Mirage said in what they had dubbed his 'Towers' brat voice', and as expected it made his lover grin.

"I love you, oh Noble One."

"As well you should, Puppy Love."

 _*Fin*_

* * *

 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own The Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.


	2. Warm Drink

_Warning:_ Non-sexual 'breastfeeding' via special mechanical modifications in robots.  
 _Prompt:_ Warm drinks  
 _Word count:_ 500  
 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own the Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.

* * *

 **Warm Drink**

 **xxx**

"I'm fine," Bumblebee insisted.

"Your system functionality is down to sixty-five percent," Mirage said. "That's not 'fine'." He jumped forward, barely catching his companion by the arm when Bumblebee stumbled over a clump of frozen snow. The Unmaker knew what imbecile had thought it a good idea to send a minibot out on a scouting mission on what was probably the coldest cycle this winter had seen so far. So here Mirage was, somewhere in a snow-covered forest, with a team mate who was slowly freezing into stasis lock.

"We need to get you warmed up," he said. "And quick."

A well-aimed laser shot melted away a patch of snow for them to settle down. Once they had a humble plasma fire going, Mirage sat down with his back against a tree, Bumblebee a small, ice-cold weight against him as the buried into his side.

A deep-level scan of his companion left Mirage both worried and upset with himself. Scrap him, he should know better than to allowed 'Bee to push himself so hard…

He pondered his options. The fire and his own frame could only do so much. Heated energon would be best, but they'd already used their emergency reserves just to keep 'Bee on his feet.

Then a thought hit him, and he cringed inwardly. Oh Primus, he hated that mod -

Bumblebee snuggled closer, engine sputtering audibly.

Mirage opened his chest plates. The seldom-used system activated easily, energon streaming into the helically coiled fuel lines on either side of his chest, making them glow a soft purple. Bumblebee watched, surprise and awe swirling in his field. "'Raj," he breathed.

"Thank me later," Mirage growled. He cupped 'Bee's head with one hand, guiding him into position. "Don't suck," he cautioned. "Just transmit this code on this frequency." He sent a quick data burst containing the instructions.

Slowly and carefully, Bumblebee closed his lips around the rubber mouthpiece at the center of the coil, his optics never leaving Mirage's.

The initial trickle quickly turned into a steady flow. Bumblebee spluttered a bit over the first mouthful, and Mirage tucked him into his side more firmly, patting him gently until his companion settled into a rhythm.

The process was meant to have a soothing effect on the participants, and the constant stream of energon through the sensor-laden mouthpiece did feel quite mellowing. Mirage relaxed against the tree trunk, watching as 'Bee's optics dimmed and his field smoothed out. And slowly but surely, his struggling engine began to run a bit more smoothly.

"Better?" Mirage asked when Bumblebee eventually let go of the mouthpiece and the energon flow stopped. The minibot looked slightly dazed.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I mean… wow, 'Raj, I'd no idea -"

"I would appreciated it," Mirage interrupted, "if this stayed between you and me."

Bumblebee stared at him, field oozing puzzlement, but Mirage also sensed the wave of _trust/respect/grateful_ directed at him.

"Sure, 'Raj," Bumblebee said softly. "Whatever you want."

 _*Fin*_

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ This oneshot was inspired by the "Transformers Breastfeeding Chronicles" by Camfield which you can find at Ao3.  
I've long wanted to play with the idea of Cybertronians being able to "nurse" each other, and this prompt gave me the perfect excuse ;)


	3. Here's Your Sign

_Prompt:_ Here's Your Sign (song by Bill Engvall)  
 _Word count:_ 514  
 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own the Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.

* * *

 **Here's Your Sign**

 **xxx**

The human tradition of Christmas turned out to be a surprisingly agreeable event. True, Mirage didn't particularly care for the organic decoration, nor for Blaster's infinite loop of 'Jingle Bells'. But the gift-giving ceremony was an amusive experience, not least because of the vintage brew of energon Ratchet had provided. And then Carly began to sing.

"What a funny notion," Skyfire remarked when she'd ended, "that a god should wait that long to reveal himself to his creations. Was he hiding from you?"

Spike laughed. "That's how our religions work, Skyfire. Don't you have such legends on Cybertron?"

"We don't have to _wait_ for our god," Prowl said. "Primus has been with us from our very first moment, and one day, our sparks will return to him, 'til all are one."

"But we do have tons of songs," Bumblebee asserted. "You know, old hymns and ballads and -"

"And I bet my tailpipes the Boss Bot knows half of them by spark," Sideswipe interjected, grinning.

"Well then," Carly said blithely. "Why don't _you_ sing us a song, Optimus?"

The rec room became absolutely quiet. All optics focused on Prime who looked a bit taken aback at the sudden attention. "Well," he said, "it… has been a while since I last sang the old songs. But -" He handed his cube to his TIC and stood. "Given the spirit of the season, let's see if I can still do them justice."

He offlined his optics for a moment. Then he began to sing, and Mirage felt his spark tremble.

The ancient melody washed over him as a wave of emotion, leaving him soft and warm inside. He clasped his lover's hands, smiling when all around the room fields flared and optics brightened.

Understandably, no one reacted very kindly when the moment was spoiled by a blaring siren.

The SWAT teams swept the corridors like the living Guardians of the Pit, and barely a breem later, they dragged a struggling Ravage out of his hiding spot.

"Straight to the brig, I'd say," Ironhide growled, but Mirage, struck by a sudden epiphany, raised his hand.

"Gentlemechs," he said. "I have a suggestion that might be a bit more consistent with the… _spirit of the season_."

xxx

Megatron cringed when his office doors flew open and his SIC strode in uninvited. He had a data pad in his hand and an unholy gleam in his optics.

"My lord," he said. "I have just intercepted a message from the Ark. And I ask you - no, I beg of you, my lord! Please let me be the mech who shows this to Soundwave!"

Patience snapping, Megatron snatched the data pad out of his fingers.

It showed an image capture of a royally pissed-looking Ravage. He was covered in colorful baubles, tinsel dangled from his ears, and string lights had been wrapped around his tail. On his head sat a red and white pointed hat with a fluffy bobble, and a black-plated hand held a hastily scribbled sign into the camera. It read:

'I've been a naughty kitty. Merry Christmas, 'Cons!'

 _*Fin*_

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ I imagine the ballad Optimus sings to go something like "God Bless Us Everyone" by Andrea Bocelli and David Foster, with a Cybertronian text, of course :) Fangirl that I am, I tried to picture the melody in combination with Peter Cullen's gorgeous voice, and promptly fainted several times, so if you plan to do likewise, you might want to make sure there's a cushioned surface available ;-)

Also, no kitties were harmed in the production of this oneshot!


	4. Ice Car

_Prompt:_ Ice car (image)  
 _Word count:_ 500  
 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own the Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.

* * *

 **Ice Car**

 **xxx**

"I don't need cold weather equipment, he said," Ratchet sneered. "No organic planet's telling me how to outfit myself, he said."

"By the Unmaker, Ratchet," Mirage growled. "I swear if you don't stop I will - ow! Watch where you stick that, human!"

"Sorry!" Spike called blithely, and his father added "Don't worry, 'Raj, we'll have you roadworthy again in no time."

It couldn't be soon enough for Mirage's liking. His vehicle mode was covered in ice from roof to tires, his doors wouldn't open, and worst of all he couldn't transform because the necessary circuits were deeply unhappy with the sub-zero temperatures. The humans called this season a time of warmth and joy. What a load of rubbish!

Fortunately, what they lacked in common sense they made up for in expertise when it came to dealing with cold-stricken machinery. Although their treatment felt more like torture than like maintenance. Spike's lock deicer bit and burned in Mirage's door locks, and he winced every time Sparkplug maltreated his windows with the slagging ice scraper. The only thing that felt remotely acceptable was the infusion of antifreeze-spiked, lukewarm coolant Ratchet had hooked him up to.

By the time the infusion was complete, the humans had finished their work, and Mirage was finally able to complete his transformation sequence. "Thank you, Sparkplug," he said coolly, stretching his gyros experimentally. "Spike." He glared at Ratchet. "Medic."

Ratchet huffed at the slight and turned to a patiently waiting Hound. "Take Mr. Nobility out of my med bay and someplace where he can defrost in peace, will you?"

That place had better be under a spray of hot solvent, Mirage thought, flicking melting ice from his chest plates as they stepped out into the corridor. Hound linked arms with him. "Feeling better?"

"I feel like someone who has just been abused by two organics and a crazy medic," Mirage said, "and I do not wish to talk about it. Where are you going?"

Hound smiled mysteriously, steering him towards the elevators. "I thought you'd be chuffed about a nice, hot oil bath."

"We don't have any oil baths on this ship," Mirage reminded him.

"Not quite. I commandeered Prime's wash rack." He laughed at Mirage's scandalized expression. "Relax. I pinged him, he said it's okay."

Mirage blinked. Optimus was visiting a press conference in New York… Could he really have sanctioned this?

Hound leaned over, rubbing some meltwater off his lover's armor. "C'mon. Let's take a nice, long soak, and then you'll feel better, yeah?"

Oh, but that sounded lovely… It was such a trifle, but to Mirage, the absence of oil baths was yet another of the thousand tiny, everyday reminders that Earth simply wasn't his home. Not to mention he was still freezing his aft off.

He let Hound gently push him into the waiting elevator and smiled when his lover playfully nudged his field with his own. Maybe there _was_ some warmth and joy in store for him after all.

 _*Fin*_

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ You can find the image for this promp under: chilloutpoint dot com /images/2010/08/14-coolest-ice-car-sculptures/14-coolest-ice-car-sculptures-15 dot jpg


End file.
